Oh, January. No wonder you’re my least favorite month of the year.

Winter where it’s supposed to be warm. Slushy sharks??

Bone-dry where it’s supposed to be wet.

You have a State of the Union speech by a President with nothing to say and nothing left to offer clearly itching to get back to what he does best: waste taxpayer money by giving speeches to progressive zombies who think he’s a) still interesting and b) still relevant. Which he’s not – on both counts.

Now it’s on to the Super Bowl featuring the only player anyone is even talking about. Me? I only care about the wings and the guacamole dip.

Thank God we have stories like this to keep the flickering, boring flame of mid-winter alive.

Obama’s high school pot dealer who he thanked for the ‘good times’ beaten to death with a hammer by his gay lover after fights over flatulence and drugs.

Good times, good times.